


leaves me with a hole in my chest

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [99]
Category: Bandom, Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, PTSD, companion!verse, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: The Butcher and Companion!Spencer (friends and too much)</p>
            </blockquote>





	leaves me with a hole in my chest

Butcher snatched up the piece of paper cartwheeling in the wind. He barely glanced at it - yesterday's news, the anniversary of Winters' assassination, the TV had been covered with it all week - before screwing it up and making an easy three-point shot into the dumpster just outside the stage doors.

Inside, he had to blink to adjust to the darkness. It was still ages til the show, the techs were just gearing up, he had plenty of time to kill.

Butcher rubbed his fingers, scowling at the faint trails of newsprint sticking to his fingers. This was what he got trying to be a good person. He changed direction, heading off down a corridor where he was sure there was a little bathroom.

Butcher was already through the door before he realized it wasn't empty. In the split second between Spencer glancing up at him in the mirror and busying himself with the taps, Butcher saw....grief. Loneliness. Longing. A dozen emotions, all tangled together, none of them pleasant, under tear-stained cheeks.

Butcher walked to the second sink slowly, taking his time getting the water to the optimal temperature. "Rough day?" he asked quietly without looking over.

Spencer snorted. "Always is," he agreed so quietly that Butcher had to strain to hear him over the running taps. "Anniversary day." Spencer's tap cut off, and in his peripheral vision, Butcher saw Spence brace himself against the counter. "It kind of snuck up on me this year," he added with a sardonic little chuckle.

Butcher rinsed the last of the ink off his fingers and turned off his own taps. Reaching for the dispenser on the walls, he took a handful of paper towel and began to dry his fingers one by one. "If you ever need a friend," he said at last.

Spencer's hand was warm and strong as it rested briefly on Butcher's shoulder. "Thanks," Spencer said quietly. "But I've got this."

The hinges squeaked, and Butcher was left alone.


End file.
